His Savior
by draydray531
Summary: The Queen of England's guard dog Ciel and his Demon have yet another case on their hands. A Dark Harry Potter is working undercover with the Death Eaters and as Voldemort's mastermind. Rated M For later chapters!  Voldemort/Harry Sabastian/Harry


Summary: This is my very, very first story! The Queen of England's guard dog Ciel has yet another case on his hands. A dark Harry Potter is working undercover with the Death Eaters as Voldemort's mastermind. He is helping sacrifice many Muggles and Blood Traitors. Ciel and Sabastian have to seek out these murderers to protect his Queen's people. Harry/Voldemort Harry/Ciel. Rated M for a reason folks. [Later Chapters].

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter or Black Butler series as much as I wish otherwise.

Harry James Potter sat underneath a strange, tall window with his legs stretched out in front of him. Nagini, a seventeen foot long snake, was resting near him with the end of her body lain comfortably across his lap. Harry rubbed the palm of his hand against the tip of his very numb nose, trying to regain warmth and feeling while also stroking her scales absentmindedly with his other free hand.

Where he sat used to be part of a cozy home where an elderly couple used to have their morning tea together, sit by the fire together, and have their grandchildren over for supper sometimes. But at this moment in time, the house was pinching with the cold of the heavy night and shuddering with the sharp intakes of fear. The couple had been brutally killed without wands and with lots of gore, because unfortunately for them, this was the exact spot where the Dark Lord wanted his new meeting place to be. If you had asked Harry this time two years ago, he would have been overcome with the anger of the vicious rumors of his leaving Dumbledor's side. He would have also been repulsed by the fact that the Death Eater's took advantage of the feeble old couple and rid of them for their own advantage. But in this dead, bleak midwinter, Harry was the one to direct and persuade Lord Voldemort to come to this house in the middle of nowhere and use it as his hideaway for secret meetings. Leaving Hogwarts only last year, he had told everyone that he was on the hunt for the rest of the seven Horcrux's by himself, when in reality he had been changing sides to join forces with the Dark Lord. The process had been painful, but the mark on his left forearm had been worth it. He wondered if everyone in the wizarding world thought and believed him to be dead. He had seen no one from the ministry or school for ages. He had been shut off from his old life for good when he reached Voldemort, and it seemed that Voldemort had wanted it to be that way. A faked death.

A few Death Eaters roamed the house with their great black cloaks and silver masks still fitted to their face. Even after spending a loyal year with them, a few of the Death Eaters were a little questionable when it came to Harry and his sudden change to their side. But it should be remembered that it was Harry who had designed the death of Albus Dumbledor, and it was also he who had suggested Draco Malfoy to perform the unforgivable curse, although that part of the plan had unforeseeably failed. The Potter boy was the mastermind behind many of their Lord's great plans for Muggle sacrifice and fight for power. He had proved himself to be a worthy young man of eighteen years of age and showed no sign of betrayal. There was nothing they could do but put their trust in Voldemort.

"Nagini, come." A silky voice drifted across the room from the other side of an open door, and Harry had to shift his legs as the snake slithered silently over to her master.

"You too, Potter." Harry pushed himself off the floor and followed Nagini into the black and shadowy room in which only a yellow candle flickered for him to see. As he walked in, he could feel the stares of the three Death Eaters who had been waiting in the same room as him. But all life in the other room was left behind when he closed the door behind him and saw the illuminated face of his Dark Lord. White and unchanging, no expression lay forth for Harry to read. All he could study were the slits for his nose that were cut in the center of his face, and the thin lipped mouth that was sewn into a straight line.

"Yes, my Lord?" Harry asked with his heart thumping hard against his ribs. He clenched his shaking hands into fists and tried his best to portray a strong, able man. The greatest and one of the most powerful wizards in the history of all magic sat in a regal chair that vaguely resembled a throne in front of him. No matter how many times he was faced with this wizard, Harry still found his heart pounding and his blood humming up and down his body. The fear was almost unbearable.

"I must ask you a couple of questions that have been . . . bothering me." Nagini had her body wrapped around the legs of the chair and her head was resting on Voldemort's lap. His long, slender fingers were stroking the skin between her eyes. If anybody else had been petting her like he was, they would have lost their hand in a flash.

To his statement, Harry could only nod in the light of the candle and wait. He could feel the dampness on the back of his neck bead and trickle down the slope of his spine as the torturous moments passed.

"Tell me, are you loyal to me like my followers are loyal to me?"

"Y – yes, my Lord. More so than the rest, I'd follow you till the end." Harry tripped over his words and cursed himself for sounding so weak and helpless, but Voldemort didn't seem to pay that much mind.

"Do you swear to me that my plans are your plans, that my destruction is your destruction?"

"I swear," Harry almost whispered.

The Dark Lord looked up from Nagini and towards the boy standing in front of him, although, no one could call him much of a boy anymore. There were no signs of a child in Potter's face with the masculine sharp edges of his jaw and the deep, knowing eyes of a man. His arms were strong and his body was well muscled from being someone who wasn't foreign to labor, running, or fighting. Yes, it was true. Potter was no longer the boy who lived.

"Then, being assured of your loyalty, I must ask you to give me one final thing." Voldemort spoke in a low tone so no one could overhear them speaking. Harry almost had to lean in to catch every word he was saying.

"I'd do anything for you."

"Then promise me your heart."

Harry, taken aback, couldn't come out with an answer straight away. His shaking increased to his shoulders that trembled up and down, reverberating his body. He could feel something had been coming by the way Voldemort had called him in, perhaps a new assignment, and new plot to kill, new tactics and weapons. He had never thought that he would be standing in front of his Dark Lord devoting his heart and love to him. But he was, and he had to say something.

"Of course, I'll hand over anything," Harry promised him, fighting away his resistance. His heart was now pounding so relentlessly against his chest he thought he might faint.

Voldemort eyed him and slowed his strokes on Nagini. "Do you swear to never touch another man?"

"I – I swear."

"Prove it to me now."

"How am I suppo –"

The Dark Lord stood suddenly, his cloak draped around his body, gracing the floor with the trim. Nagini had retracted and was moving around their feet, hissing a threat to Harry that he could understand too well. His only hope was to listen to his leader's every command.

"Step closer," Voldemort demanded.

Harry took a step closer.

"Closer, you fool."

The raven haired eighteen – year – old walked over to Voldemort with his hands behind his back. He was twisting and turning his fingers unnaturally in fear of what was to come, for he did not know. His mind was racing through so many thoughts that he could not make sense of any. He was trapped within the promise he made to his Lord.

Harry felt the spider like hands curve around his body and unlatch his hands. He wondered if Voldemort could feel the thrashing of his heart on the other side of his chest, because they were now so close their chests were touching.

Harry hands were led around Voldemort's neck and he could feel the chill of his skin on his fingertips. He was so frightened, he could feel that the only thing keeping him standing upright was Voldemort's grip on Harry's waist and his clutch on the collar of the Dark Lord's robes. He felt like he was drowning.

"Prove it to me now."

This time, Harry understood, and it took all his strength to perform the act. He moved his grip from Voldemort's robes and pressed his hand against his surprisingly soft cheek. Wide and hollow, the eyes of a snake looked down at him and his uneasiness. Why was it taking him so long?

"I've . . . Never done this before," Harry whispered truthfully, his lips near the curve of Voldemort's shoulder and neck. He buried his face in that crevice and waited for the ferocious yelling to begin.

"I didn't expect any more of you anyway, Potter," is what came instead. "I trust you won't betray me."

The older man pushed him away from his body and sat back down in his great chair. His robes splayed out around him and draped like curtains off the arms of the chair as he sat, staring off in a whole other direction, some place far away from Harry. Harry, who still had no idea what had just happened. Was this it? Was his Dark Lord, his savior, in love with him?


End file.
